


jump the gun

by aquaexplicit



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Consensual But Not Necessarily Safe Or Sane, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Gun Kink, M/M, Praise, Slight Danger Kink, Things Done With Guns That Should Not Be Done, Under-negotiated Kink, season 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-11
Updated: 2017-11-11
Packaged: 2019-01-31 22:31:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12691497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aquaexplicit/pseuds/aquaexplicit
Summary: Harry and Cisco mess with a new gun. Then each other.





	jump the gun

**Author's Note:**

> Harry fucks Cisco with a gun. That's literally all y'all. Based on this [brief but very important conversation](https://aquaexplicit.tumblr.com/post/163018216594/harry-doesnt-really-have-a-lot-of-kinks-or) with terrie01.

“Spread your legs a little wider, Ramon,” Harry says, right against the velvet flush of Cisco’s ear, and oh, he knows exactly what he’s doing. His voice is dark dipped smug. Cisco can practically hear, practically feel, the stupid little smirk Harry gets when he makes Cisco’s breath stutter. “Atta boy.”

“I’ve shot a gun before.” Cisco rolls his shoulders, trying to slip through the tar slide of lust. Not good to not be focused when he has a handgun pointed at the target in Harry’s indoor shooting range, Harry pressed lean and mean behind him.

“Not like this you haven’t. Tighten up your elbows. Just like that.”

Cisco fights not to close his eyes under the rasped praise. It’s irritating how easily Harry can get him hot and bothered. It’s even more irritating that Harry is aware of his power. That Harry abuses it.

“You think you’re ready?” Harry asks.

“I was born ready.”

Harry finally steps back. Without the burning line of him, Cisco can stare more clearly ahead. He takes a steadying breath and cocks the gun. There’s a heavy exhale behind him and Cisco resists the urge to look back.

He fires off the first round. His heart roars over the dampened sound of the shot, the click of metal, the sound of Harry’s panting breath. The shot is clean and the target crackles with electricity. Pulling the trigger is smooth, slick. Feels good. Cisco nearly bites his lip. Fuck.

“This, uh, really packs a punch.”

Cisco runs an appreciative gaze over the gun in his hands. It’s mostly Harry’s work, sleek and powerful and perfect to slip in the Vibe suit utility belt Cisco is developing. Harry had handed the prototype over to Cisco in the workshop one day, a few weeks after they’d decided to move Harry from Cisco’s couch to Cisco’s bed.

They haven’t done the L word thing yet but it was the closest to a confession of feelings as Harry had ever come. _I want you to be safe. I want to help you be safe. I’m on your team._

Another target descends and Cisco takes the next shot. The pattern repeats until Cisco’s arms feel like an extension of metal and the barrel is empty.

Cisco brings the tip of the gun to his mouth and blows. No matter how many times he’s done this, he still feels half pre-teen, young and excited while he poured over comics and magazines and ran his fingers over pictures of metal. _Shooting shit with guns is just cool_. He’d told Harry that once. Harry had just rolled his eyes.

Harry’s eyes aren’t rolling when Cisco glances over his shoulder with a smile. That ice water gaze is on him but it’s narrow. Dark. Harry’s pupils are shot wide.

“So the gun is good,” Cisco says, and if he sounds a little breathy, well - shooting practice can take a lot out of a person.

The warm flutter in his throat, quickening his pulse and blood, isn't because Harry is stalking forward. His heart doesn't trip over itself because Harry's pink tongue peaks between his pink lips and he looks ready to soak it all in Cisco's taste.

Cisco holds his ground as Harry slinks past his personal space. One hand comes up to rest lazy next to Cisco's head. Harry runs the other over the gun.

“I don't think it needs any adjustments.” Cisco's mouth moves to say the words but his actual attention is drawn by Harry's fingers, long and strong and caressing Cisco's skin with as much reverence as he traces the gun metal.

Without a word, Harry presses closer. He always runs so hot - an Earth 2 thing, but Cisco isn't complaining. Harry's corded with heat and all of Cisco's exposed nerves soak it up. Cisco curls the hand not weak around the gun around Harry's hip, urging him closer.

He feels an even hotter heat, insistent against him, and doesn't bother to hide a smile when he meets Harry's gaze with a raised eyebrow.

“You packing too, Harry?” He asks in his most salacious tone, the one that usually makes Harry laugh, but Harry's lips part a little breathier and it licks at Cisco's belly. “Or do you just like watching me shoot?”

Harry misses the double entendre - which is maybe for the best, it's not Cisco's finest. He leans in, watching Cisco's mouth, and Cisco can't help but drop his want to Harry's too.

“I like watching you shoot the gun I made.”

The gravel confession scrapes Cisco raw. Harry knows the sharp of his voice drags weakness all over Cisco, coats him in it inside and out. There's satisfaction in the little upturn of his lips. Cisco isn't going to let him get away with it.

“So you like watching me handle your equipment?”

That coaxes a laugh. Small and breathy and right against Cisco's cheek, making Cisco press his grip deeper into Harry's side for balance. Harry dips his fingers below Cisco's chin, tilting his head up. It brings his gaze away from where Harry is touching his hand and the gun with a gentleness bordering on obscene. Harry's thumb grazes his lips.

“As much as you like handling it,” Harry quips, so even voiced Cisco has to laugh.

The amusement wobbles into want when Harry stops teasing Cisco's mouth with his thumb and starts teasing it with his own. He hovers within devouring distance and licks at Cisco's bottom lip. Cisco pants, worked into scratching at Harry's hip bone by practically nothing.

Cisco sways into Harry's tease and kisses him. Pushes up on his toes and slides easy into Harry's mouth, coaxing a groan from one of them that they both swallow. There's nothing in the kiss but Cisco's need spilling messy over them.

Harry pulls back first. He's breathing hard and Cisco takes advantage of his momentary distraction. Cisco tilts his head, sliding until Harry's thumb is pressed greedy to his lips, and sucks the skin inside.

The fingers moving over his hand tremble to a stop. Cisco flicks his tongue over the magnificent rough of Harry's thumb and punches a noise out of Harry that leaves him grinning.

“Your mouth.” Harry's voice has devolved into that sandpaper rasp that rubs Cisco raw. “Looks so much better like this.”

Cisco glares at him with no heat. No anger heat, anyway. The rush that comes when their insults are barbed with tongues instead of frustration is completely different. It flushes Cisco from his blood to his cheeks to his dick. He nips at Harry's thumb then pulls away with a pop.

“Yeah?” Cisco pants, pressing. Harry nods. Swallows hard. He looks caught between saying more and focusing his complete attention on the give of Cisco's lip under his thumb. 

He hasn't seen Harry like this often. Most of their intimate moments have stolen fast between metahuman fuckery. Sometimes in Cisco's bed, Harry's face half hidden by shadow. Sometimes in the Cortex or the workshop, stifling each other's moans with hands over mouths and bitten shoulders. Once on Harry's cot. The mattress was too thin. Harry had called him Buttercup when he bitched about it.

Now is one of the first times in days - maybe weeks - that they've had time. Space to be alone together, stretch against each other's skin, soak it all up.

“If you think that looks good,” Cisco starts, moving before his brain has fully processed what he's doing. Everything with Harry has been all instinct and it hasn't failed him before.

He presses his palm over Harry's, stopping his touches, and lifts their hands, the gun still between his fingers, to his mouth. Harry watches with an open, hungry expression. Cisco waits until Harry looks him in the eye before darting his tongue out to lap at the metal.

Harry grips Cisco's shoulder with his free hand, digging jagged nails over Cisco's thin t-shirt. Cisco grins.

“Which of your guns do you wanna see my mouth take?”

Harry doesn't laugh or tease Cisco for the line. He's too preoccupied pressing himself into Cisco's side and pressing the gun past Cisco's lips.

Cisco doesn't think very hard about the fact that he's giving a blowjob to a gun. His life is weird, he's come to terms with it. The time to be embarrassed or cling to his inhibitions passed him like a freight train years ago.

He takes what Harry gives him, letting his eyes flutter closed and a muffled moan fall. It's a little over the top but this is the one place Harry doesn't mind theatrics. The slide of the gun is cool and slick against his tongue. There's a hint of metal filling his mouth; it tastes like his workshop smells. Like Harry.

Cisco gives a real suck, then, cheeks hollowing to press against the gun. It feels good. More than just putting on a show for Harry, more than finally getting Harry as worked up as he is himself. It's the weight of the gun inside of him. The knowledge that Harry built it with his own hands, built it for Cisco, packed it with power that could electrify Cisco's veins. The slick slide of Harry fucking it in and out.

He groans again when Harry presses the gun deeper. His mouth stretches to accommodate more and ache licks at his jaw. The hand over Harry's tightens.

“Too much?”

Cisco opens his eyes. Hesitation is warring with that other thing Harry always fights - the need to control all tangled up in his desperation. He's stopped moving the gun, but he hasn't taken it out. His jaw is clenched.

In response, Cisco drops his mouth wider and uses his grip to make Harry push the gun as far as he can take it.

Harry shudders. He surges forward with a rough noise, rocking himself against Cisco's hip. His lips brush over Cisco’s temple, ear, face, more gently than he’s fucking the gun into Cisco’s mouth. Then he presses his mouth over Cisco’s cheek, over the bulge of the gun, and they both lose whatever control they’ve had. Cisco’s dick throbs and he arches into nothing for friction. Harry laughs at him, breathless, and drops one hand to palm him with not nearly enough pressure over his jeans.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, you know.” Harry mouths at him. The feeling of Harry’s lips against his skin, against the gun, makes want drop like lead in Cisco’s belly. He rocks into Harry’s touch. “That’s it, Cisco. Show me how much you want it.”

Cisco’s thoughts start flowing slower. They all funnel to the feeling of the moment, to the way the gun fills him up but not nearly as much as Harry’s words, Harry’s teasing touch. The team and the city and all the responsibilities he has to keep close to the surface fade under Harry’s voice. It’s not often that Cisco has the luxury of slipping into this space and he welcomes it with a moan and press of his hips.

He lets Harry work him into a steady frenzy. Sucks the gun as messy and desperate as Harry likes to be sucked down and practically humps Harry’s palm. Harry’s making just as many rough little gasps as he is.

After Cisco’s jaw starts to ache in earnest, Harry rasps words Cisco can’t make out over the pounding in his ears. He opens his eyes to watch Harry fumble one handed with his belt. The tease in him watches Harry struggle before the amazing, Saint-like boyfriend in him slides one hand down to help Harry out.

“Stupid,” Harry is muttering as they use the power of teamwork and desperation to open the belt and the button of Harry’s jeans. Cisco blinks at him. Harry meets his eyes then looks away, yanking at his fly. “Jealous of a fucking gun.”

Cisco laughs around the metal in his mouth. Harry glares and slides the gun away, holding it against the wall as he works at his pants.

“You poor thing. Was I not paying enough attention to you?” Harry’s scowl deepens to match his glare. He yanks his jeans down - no underwear, Cisco notes, licking his lips. Cisco takes a moment to appreciate Harry’s height proportional dick before flicking his gaze back to Harry’s own. “Let me make it up to you.”

The floor is cold concrete. It bites annoying aches into Cisco’s knees. Cisco ignores it in favor of wrapping one hand around Harry’s cock and gripping Harry’s thigh with the other.

Harry groans and drops his hands. One curls into Cisco’s hair, a now familiar gesture that makes Cisco go quiet and hot inside. The other hand is still curled around the gun. Cisco reads hesitation on Harry’s face for just a moment before Harry runs the barrel along Cisco’s cheek.

It feels weird and cold and amazing. Cisco tilts into it. He soaks in the attention and the drag of the gun and Harry’s heavy breathing. Then Harry gets impatient.

“Ramon.” Cisco works Harry with his hand, distracting him, and nuzzles against the gun. Harry pants along with it until his fingers bite at Cisco’s scalp. “Cisco. Give me your mouth, come on.”

Cisco doesn’t feel like he’s teased enough, but he wants to suck Harry off as much as Harry wants it, and his time with Harry is about indulgence, not denial. He brushes his lips over the head of Harry’s dick and Harry immediately goes slack; his head falls against the wall, his fingers shake in Cisco’s hair, the gun slides lax against Cisco’s jaw.

“Yeah,” Harry groans, like he can’t help it, when Cisco finally sucks him all the way down. He presses the gun until it bites at Cisco’s skin. “Just like that.”

It’s the same praise Harry whispered to him before he started shooting. The tone of it now, bled of its smug heat and heavy with want, goes straight to Cisco’s head. He ups his efforts; palms at Harry’s ass, cups his balls, and hollows his cheeks deeper than he ever did with the gun. The payoff is worth it. Harry fucks up and says his name like it’s being ripped out of his belly.

Cisco pulls back, sucking messily at the head. He looks up to see Harry watching him with pupils blown wide. Harry scowls, which Cisco has come to realize is the look Harry makes when he’s trying to focus on anything other than how good he feels. When he’s trying not to come too soon.

Triumph sizzles Cisco hot and he swallows Harry to the root in one groaning move. Harry presses the barrel of the gun into Cisco’s cheek, trapping his skin between everything Harry, and Cisco has to touch himself. He squeezes himself through his jeans with a rough grip then brings his hand back up, running his fingers over the parts of Harry his tongue can’t lick.

The warning moans Cisco has become familiar with start to pour over him. Harry uses his grip on Cisco’s hair to pull him deeper, faster, and Cisco lets Harry take whatever he wants. He enjoys the ride, the sharp tug of his hair, the gun pressing harder and harder into his skin until his cheeks burn as intensely as his jaw and lips. His nails scratch along the front of Harry’s thighs.

“Cisco, come on, come on - ” Harry pushes in, fills up Cisco’s throat and guts and senses, and comes.

Harry holds Cisco in place for a minute, coming down from his high with heavy pants and closed eyes. Cisco drinks it in. When Harry untangles his fingers from Cisco’s hair, Cisco eases off, dragging his tongue over the still sensitive skin until Harry hisses and pushes him away.

He rocks back and smiles up at Harry, satisfied and smug. When Harry opens his eyes, Cisco wipes at his wet mouth with the back of his hand. Harry’s eyes narrow.

“Get up here.”

Harry barely waits for Cisco to get his feet under him, curling a hand around Cisco’s shirt and pressing him right back into the wall, right where they started. He bites at Cisco’s mouth until it stings then curls his tongue inside, licking out the taste of gunmetal and come. Cisco opens up wide for him.

When Harry remembers he needs to breathe, he pulls back, sucking at Cisco’s jaw. His hand is still tight in Cisco’s shirt. The other one is still curled around the gun.

“Was that everything you imagined when you were watching me shoot?” Cisco pants, eyes on the gun Harry has pinned next to head against the wall.

Harry mumbles something and bites at his earlobe. Cisco groans and drops his hands to his jeans. Harry joins him, pulling at his fly until they can both work the pants down his hips.

“I wasn’t imagining you fellating my gun while you were shooting it,” Harry whispers into his ear. Cisco wrinkles his nose at the word fellating - who says that.

Curiosity bites at Cisco next. “What were you imagining? Huh, Harry? What were you picturing doing with that gun?”

Harry groans and finally works Cisco's boxers off. Cisco doesn’t even have a moment to breathe before Harry is spitting in his hand and wrapping slick fingers around his cock. He surges into the too loose grip and scrapes his fingers down Harry’s chest.

“Fucking you,” Harry bites. Cisco goes taut inside out. Harry jerks him tighter, faster, mouthing at his throat before pressing the gun muzzle to his jaw. The words and the power end of metal licking at him make Cisco’s knees buckle. “I thought about fucking you with it.”

Cisco swallows a groan. “I’m game if you are.”

Harry tilts his head back, looking Cisco in the eye, searching for any reason to stop. Think this through. Figure out what the fuck they’re doing.

Cisco kisses him. Deep and too wet and when Harry licks inside his mouth Cisco opens wide, feels the gun bite deeper against him. He can’t think past how much he wants it even deeper.

“Turn around,” Harry grits. Cisco isn’t usually so quick to follow orders but his body is fuzzy tight at the thought of getting Harry’s gun inside him again. He’s seen Harry desperate before - brought him to the edge and licked him off it before - but there’s a crackle in Harry’s need that Cisco’s never seen. He feels drunk on it.

He hears Harry maneuvering behind him as he turns - probably reaching for one of their wallets, a packet of lube they've learned to carry around with them. Cisco focuses on spreading his palms on the shooting window pane, planting his feet firmly, finding some balance in the whirlwind of want. He’s almost steady when Harry presses against his back. Slick fingers slide against him and he moans, head falling forward, hips tilting up into Harry’s touch.

“You’re still so tight.” Harry uses the gun to sweep Cisco’s hair to the side then mouths at the exposed skin. “So good.”

Cisco rocks back onto Harry’s fingers. It took them a while, figuring out the difference between a burn of pleasure and of pain, learning each other’s trembles and pants. It’s so good now. A little more predictable but Harry knows exactly how he likes to be opened up, exactly what words to say and where to kiss him and how deep to press in to make Cisco fuck himself back onto Harry’s touch.

“Tell me what you want,” Harry pants, licking at the top of his spine. He works another finger inside and it takes Cisco a heavy breath before he can answer.

“You,” Cisco pants right back. Harry groans and drapes himself over Cisco’s back. “Your gun. Want you to fuck me with the gun you made for me, Harry, God.”

Harry slips three fingers out and follows it up immediately with the muzzle of the gun, slicker now. It feels bigger than it did when Cisco took it with his mouth. Heavier and more powerful and so much more dangerous.

“Do it,” Cisco hisses. “Do it, Harry, give it to me.”

The gun glides in, hot knife through tender flesh easy, and Cisco wants to cry it feels so good. Harry presses and presses until the magazine well is flush against Cisco’s skin.

“Christ, Cisco. You just - swallowed it up.”

Cisco presses his forehead to his forearm. He feels shaken on his feet even though he knows Harry is there to keep him stable. Taking an unsteady breath, he lifts his hips, telling Harry to get on with it. To come on. Please.

Harry pulls it back, just a little, just an inch, but the movement lights Cisco up with pleasure for miles.

“How does it feel?” Harry asks, fucking him shallow and easy. There’s a lilt of nerves in his voice. “Is it good? Is this good for you?”

“It’s bitchin’,” Cisco pants back. He rolls his hips with Harry’s next movement, getting more, groaning when the gun slips against that sparking spot inside of him.

“Bitchin’,” Harry scoffs, but he sounds more convinced, more sure.

Cisco soaks in the sounds of Harry’s breathing, his filthy praise, the feeling of Harry’s fingers burning bruises on his hip and Harry’s gun filling him up. He rocks back into the thrusts. The gun isn’t as thick as Harry but the slick of it, the coolness, the illusion of risk, is more than enough to make Cisco feel full.

Harry keeps turning his wrist, working so he can fuck Cisco at different angles. When the muzzle brushes bright and cold against his sweet spot Cisco keens. His toes curl and his hips twitch backward, hard, hungry for more.

“There?” Harry asks, slipping back into smug. Cisco is going to call him out on it but then Harry fucks the gun against that spot again, faster and harder this time, and Cisco goes wordless for a moment.

Cisco’s been desperate enough for long enough that he can already feel the pressure building. He reaches blindly behind himself for Harry’s hand. Harry slips his fingers into Cisco’s grip.

“Give a guy a - fuck - a hand.”

“You can’t take care of that yourself?” But Harry lets Cisco slide his hand to grip Cisco’s cock again.

The pleasure of it has Cisco’s head lulling back. “That’s what I have you for now.”

Harry doesn’t respond. He focuses on keeping his rhythms steady. Cisco realizes he’s not making it any easier by rocking back onto the gun and up into Harry’s grip, but making things easy on Harry has never been on his agenda.

Cisco rolls his eyes to look at Harry. Kind of sideways and upside down, it distorts his features enough that Cisco has to concentrate to read his face. Harry’s eyes keep jumping, like he can’t decide if watching Cisco fuck his gun or his hand is better. Cisco can’t decide either.

It’s not much longer before the crescendo of pressure starts to rise. Cisco tries to fight it off, he does, holding his breath and thinking of nuns and how stupid what they’re doing is. How dangerous it could be. The last thought does absolutely nothing to dampen the impending end.

“Gonna come for me, Cisco?”

He can’t do much more than nod. Harry usually takes this moment one of two ways; either he ups the ante on his efforts and focuses that genius sharp to tear Cisco’s control to ribbons, or he slows to a maddening tease. Cisco is thankful he takes the first approach today. He fucks Cisco with the gun the same way he fucks Cisco in their bed: too fast, too hard, too much for Cisco to do much more than take. The hand around Cisco’s cock grips him tighter.

Cisco rides it all. Shock after shock of good yes more. He rocks back and forth until he feels sloppy and sore. When Harry bites the back of his neck, he grits Harry’s name and spills messy over Harry’s hand.

He makes a kind of pitiful noise when Harry eases the gun out of him. Harry shushes it with open mouthed kisses to his throat. Cisco tilts his head, giving Harry more skin to soothe, and leans his weight against Harry’s arms.

“So the gun is very good,” Cisco whispers, still a little dazed. Harry laughs against his jaw. “We’re gonna have to make another prototype, you know.”

“We are?”

Cisco manages to push away from Harry’s body heat and lean against the wall. He starts to shimmy his pants back up. “I’m not taking that one onto the field now that we know each other biblically. That one is going straight to the goody drawer.”

Harry licks his lips before sliding the gun onto the shooting range window. “So we’re doing this again?” He pulls his own jeans on.

“Hells yeah.” Cisco smooths hair hair behind his ears. “That was awesome. Right?”

“Hells yeah.”

It’s Cisco’s turn to laugh. Something fond grips him as he watches Harry buckle himself in. He moves to loop his arms around Harry’s neck, pushing on his toes to kiss Harry square on the mouth. Harry doesn’t have time to respond before he pulls away.

“Not having any second thoughts, are you? Any regrets?”

“No.” Harry brings his hands to Cisco’s cheeks. His next words are firmer. “No, I just. That was a little intense. You don’t have any regrets, right?”

That fondness pulses warm inside Cisco again. For all the smirks and confidence in how he can knock Cisco off his feet, Harry’s fingers still shake when it comes to this. It’s almost ironic that it’s Harry who worries about Cisco leaving. Cisco’s not going anywhere.

“Not one.” Cisco kisses him again.

**Author's Note:**

> IDK y'all. Feedback is always appreciated! 
> 
> You can also find me at aquaexplicit on Tumblr. Feel free to come yell with me about Cisco and Harrisco related things.


End file.
